Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 14

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, and 13 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

Sid had been on the sidelines for most of this adventure, tapping away at his keyboard and quietly marshalling resources. On Saturday, when we had our final planning meeting at Martin Gardens, he had announced that a variety of media would be joining us on the appointed day to watch the installation. Greta had invited all the mucky-mucks of her parent company, but none had responded. Her immediate boss had given her a lukewarm okay to the idea of planting a few flowers and generally sprucing up the landscape.

"I wasn't entirely honest with him," she admitted to me over a glass of wine. We'd become pretty good friends. I had learned that she, too, was a single mother. Her husband had abandoned her shortly after they learned their son had Down Syndrome. Freddie had struggled through life, but recently found a place at halfway house (I guess that's what you'd call it) for adults with disabilities. He bagged groceries and loved his freedom. However, he still had a wide variety of medical needs that drained Greta's resources.

"Why didn't you brag to Mr. Salazar? This has turned into a really, really big deal!" Skye tucked her legs under her bottom and curled up on her futon. Admittedly, her apartment had become our gathering spot. She'd done such a fantastic job of turning trash into treasure with her decor that I never failed to get inspired after a visit.

"He's prickly at best. Doesn't like me. Doesn't think I'm qualified. Doesn't think I show him the proper deference." She paused. "A bit of gossip. His nephew applied for the same job that I did, but I got it and he didn't. Rumor has it that Mr. Salazar wants me out so he can bring Paul in and crow about my failure."

Each visit began with the "How Is Helen?" report. This had been no exception.

"She's fading fast. Manages a bite of food now and again. Extremely cachetic. Um, that means she's wasting away and 'extremely' is redundant to be precise." Greta was usually precise except in matters of the heart. I found her an odd juxtaposition of rigid and soft, almost as if both sides warred within her.

"Will she make it through tomorrow?" I was worried. Kookie had been installed in his new cage. Poppy had concocted a sort of small sized hurricane shutters that could be lowered when the sun was too bright or the wind too fearsome. We didn't find any more of his feathers on the ground, so the plucking seemed to have stopped. He wasn't eating much, but now instead of shrieking Helen's name, he cooed and sang lullabies.

"Almost as if that durn bird knows she's on her way to eternal rest," Poppy had observed.

Skye took all this a bit hard. She'd always wanted a bird. Then along came Kookie. And she'd willingly given Kookie back to Helen. But I could see the sad light in her eyes each time we visited. However, Skye was no stranger to loss. I had a hunch that in her mind, she chalked this up to yet another disappointment that life had thrown her way.

~To Be Continued~

Author's Note: Oh my gosh! I asked you to "talk" to me--and I was bowled over by your response! I'm taking a series of online classes right now. One teacher says that Facebook is a TOTAL waste of time for authors. That we're only fooling ourselves. But I think we've found a wonderful way to share with each other--and because I feel closer to all of you, I get tremendous energy. So here's a big HUG from me to you. Have a great day! -- j  

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 11

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

"Now what," I said more to myself than to Skye or Greta. All three of us had tears in our eyes while Helen stroked Kookie's crest. Even Libby was sniffling.

Helen pushed herself to a seated position. Kookie rubbed his beak against her face, cooing and talking a mile a minute.

"That's the most animated I've seen her since she moved in," Greta said. She covered her mouth with her hand and stared at the two reunited friends.

Skye nodded. "I don't think I can bear to separate them. Frankly, the vet told us that Kookie won't live much longer if this depression continues. So taking the bird back to the store..."

"Isn't a wise idea." Greta squared her shoulders and inhaled deeply. "Mr. Salazar isn't supposed to visit us again for another two weeks. Libby? What's your feeling about this?"

Libby's dark brown eyes were huge with wonder. "I never been around big birds, but I don't want Miss Helen to have to say goodbye to her pet. Lord above, I thought she was all but, well, she was really poorly. Now she's acting like she's got her will to live back again."

"That bird does make messes," Skye said. "To be fair, I had to tell you."

Greta smiled, a tiny rueful grin. "All our residents make messes. How about this? Leave Kookie here. We'll see how things go."

With that, we made arrangements for her to stop by the store to pick up the perch, the cage, and the bird seed.

**

One week later, Greta called to ask if Skye and I were free for lunch. A hitch in her voice suggested she was upset, so I asked, "Is Helen all right? And Kookie?"

"Both are fine, but we have a problem. I'd rather discuss it with you two in person. Is it at all possible that we meet today?"

Over three salads at Pumpernickel's, Greta reported an unexpected visit from her boss, Mr. Salazar. "To make a long story short, he gave me twenty-four hours to find Kookie a new home. According to him, we're breaking all sorts of health department regulations."

Setting down her fork, Greta sipped water. Her eyes had been downcast since we walked in the door. She's chosen a back booth, a place where we could talk in private. By unspoken agreement, we didn't tackled the main subject until the server, a friend of Skye's, set our bowls in front of us. Now, my appetite deserted me. I couldn't imagine separating Kookie and Helen, and I said as much.

"He's adamant. Even wrote me up and threatened to fire me on the spot." Greta's face was a mask of grief. "I need this job. Even if I didn't, my replacement would be in the same predicament."

Skye toyed with a piece of tomato. "We all knew it couldn't last. Not long. But is Helen better? I don't want to sound rude, but I had the idea she wasn't going to live much longer. I guess I figured she'd be gone by now, and you wouldn't have to cope with this."

"If I'd been a betting woman, I would have laid odds that she would have passed over by now. However, she and Kookie are happy as can be. Of course, there are all sorts of visitors who drop by daily now. Everyone loves the bird. I've promised I'll see about getting other animals, but Mr. Salazar suggested that he was not interested. First there are the health regulations. Then there's the mess. Finally, there are liability issues. I prepped all sorts of articles about the therapeutic value of pets in an assisted living care facility, but he wasn't impressed. I guess if we could find therapy animals with trainers to come and go, he'd be okay with that. But live-in animals? A non-starter."

"Any word on the financing issue?" I pushed my food away. "If that gets taken care of, maybe the landscaping would help. The residents could look out the windows and see something--anything!--that would cheer them up."

"Mr. Salazar told me that it's taking longer than Mr. Boehner had predicted." Greta folded her hands in her lap.

None of us spoke.

Finally, she burst out with, "Look, I like both of you a lot. Let me be really frank, but this has to stay in the room, Mr. Salazar does not like me. He thinks I'm unqualified for my job. He's not interested in keeping me in the loop. He's a numbers guy, and that's what moves the needle on his dial. He's one of those old-school admin people who thinks of residential care as warehousing. Since he couldn't be clearer about that, I have to rethink my future at Martin Gardens. This isn't what I signed up for. This isn't who I am!"

Then the tears started.

~ To Be Continued ~

 

Author's Note: I know you'll want to read this story in its entirety when I'm finished. (And I'm not done yet!) Just so you're aware, I'll bundle it with other Cara Mia short stories and make them available as e-publications.